Black & White Reflections

doors of an epilogue

close,

dive,

then fly open,

emitting the frank observer,

the quiet one,

gentle swinger

busy sniffing the bittersweet incensed air

that floats from the circus carnival free-spin wheel

where the price of admission is loneliness

frozen gate of an epilogue

buried,

deep,

hidden Northcountry way,

far from searching Lake blasts,

from lonely distant loon crying nighttimes

somehow lingering alive,

remaining part of the path

destined for this misted wanderer

still chasing his colors,

whether the longtime hues of this vibrant planet

or

life's Black and White Reflections

7/3/73